Dulce et Decorum Est
by Hugger-Of-Trees
Summary: Years after the events of MR, Polly has led her "lads" into a testing situation and is faced with a difficult decision. Polly/Mal implied.
1. Chapter 1

Originally written for the "Surrender" prompt over at Cheesemongers on LJ (like MR? Come see us!) and influenced by Band of Brothers, in particular the "Bastogne" episode.

**Summary**: Years after the events of Monstrous Regiment, Polly has led her "lads" into a testing situation and is faced with a difficult decision. Polly/Mal implied.

**Disclaimer:** Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**Dulce Et Decorum Est**

A lone figure sat in the lookout post, gazing out over the barren frozen land. It was more of a hole really, Polly thought. But it did mean you could see the enemy without getting shot at. Or at least see where they were supposed to be. Polly squinted in a vain attempt to see anything in the tree line. They might make a rush, you never knew.

"Tea up!" It was impossible to tell from her smile whether it was aimed at the welcome distraction of her sergeant or the steam rising from the mug placed into her cold hands.

She sipped and felt the warming spread, damping the shivers for a while at least.

"Mal you are a veritable angel" she murmured, shifting over to allow the vampire to shuffle more comfortably down beside her.

"And you look almost like a vampire" her sergeant replied grinning. "You have to start eating again my dear; this fashion of hollow cheeks does not suit you at all."

The elbow to the ribs delivered in response was not a method of communication normally used in the field between lieutenant and sergeant, but they had found non-verbal communication worked well and used it whenever possible.

They sat for a while in companionable silence, but the ever invading cold began to creep back in. Polly wrapped the greatcoat closer around her shoulders and swore.

"So" said Mal brightly, "how goes the war?

"Same old, same old" muttered the now shivering form, burrowing closer for warmth.

Mal sighed. "Two groups of troops, fine bodies of men (hah) sitting in holes each side of a field, watching each other. Isn't modern warfare great?"

They huddled together for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

"It aint them we'll lose to". In the chilly silence Polly's quiet admission fell between them like a stone.

They both knew it was true. Stronger enemies than the Moldovians faced them across this high pass in the mountains. Thanks to the wonderful efforts of the high command they had been sent with no additional food and no winter clothing. A rush job, they'd been told. Only take a couple of days. Stop the enemy crossing the pass until the cavalry got there. But then the snows came. The route into the mountains was impassable on both sides. Both invaders and defenders were cut off. No cavalry, no relief troops, just holes to hide in and the ever-invading cold.

There had been sorties in the early days. Men lost on either side. They lay in front of her, snow covered heaps impossible to tell which side they had fought on. There was no energy for sorties now. The opposing sides clung to their small patch of mountain side. Two armies, slowly starving each other to death.

"Hooper got back" Mal recollected. "That boy's the luckiest lad around."

"To be back up here with us?" Polly laughed. "He should have fallen off that cliff like the others, or stayed down there."

Few messengers were surviving the trip down the perilous goat track to the remainder of the regiment in the valley below. Overlooked by enemy positions it was only attemptable at night, when it was even harder to judge a secure footing on icy rocks.

Those that got through hadn't brought back much hope. The high command appreciated their situation but they were to fight to the last man. And now, even those at base camp were on short rations. Thanks to up-to-date, first-class intelligence, supply carts had been sent through enemy held territory and lost.

Polly perked up abruptly. "What did he bring? Anything good?"

"A bag of potatoes, 4 turnips and a side of horse. At least he thinks it's horse, looks more like boots to me. Oh, and a bag of coffee." Mal added with a rueful smile. "Smart lad."

"Between how many? 27?" Polly was planning meals already. "That'll last about 4 days, if we're careful and…"

"26" Mal interjected quietly. "We lost Mitch"

"Oh."

Polly's shoulders slumped and she sagged back against the mud wall staring out over the wasteland.

"Look at them, hiding in their holes. They must be just as hungry and as cold and as tired as us, why don't they do something!" She gestured wearily at the invisible enemy. "Those damn !" She swallowed the epithet as she dropped her head in her hands.

"Shh, now." The thin arm around her shoulder was strangely comforting. Mal always claimed she was terrible at being sympathetic, but somehow her appalling attempts always worked better than the real thing. Polly shifted her cheek more comfortably into her sergeant's shoulder and sighed.

"I can't do this Mal. I've tried. I really have."

Encouraged by the squeeze to her shoulder she took a breath and tried again. "Either we surrender, and take our chances in the Moldovian cells, or we continue sitting here and starving to death one by one."

Mal attempted to protest, but was interrupted

"I promised them," Polly sniffed and angrily wiped away a tear, smudging her dirty cheek. "I promised to look after them. They trust me. Hell, they trust us! If the interrogators found out…" She looked up hopelessly "I have to starve them to death. I have to kill them to keep them safe. How damn stupid is that? Jackrum would kill me."

"He'd say you did what you could." Mal inwardly cursed the stupidity of Majors and Colonels who sat in warm war rooms and planned brainless operations like this one.

"I don't think so." Polly pulled away. "I think he'd be disappointed that I turned into a useless Rupert like all the others." She started to climb out of the hole. "I'm gonna fail him, and them and then they're going to die. 'Clever Perks, always using that brain'. Well I can't think! I'm hungry and I'm cold and I'm so darn tired and I can't think of anything!"

"Polly!" Mal grabbed her ankle as she rolled over the lip. "Get back in you idiot, it's freezing and they're still taking pot shots at anything that moves."

"Let go Mal." Polly attempted to stare her down. "I have… I have officer things to do. Like checking the stores and encouraging morale" she added sardonically. Her anger rose again as she pulled unsuccessfully to get away.

"Let go Sergeant! That's an order!"

There was a short tense battle of wills but then Mal reluctantly released her ankle and gave a mocking salute.

Watching her lieutenant crawl away she swore and kicked out at the compacted earth wall of the hole. She should say something. Something about how she would be here, waiting, should Polly need anything. Something hopeful. But she couldn't think of a way out either.

They were well and truly stuffed this time and she was having to think seriously about how to say goodbye to her mortal lieutenant.


	2. Part II Two Weeks Later

Originally written for the "Surrender" prompt at _Cheesemongers _and influenced by Band of Brothers, in particular the "_Bastogne_" episode. Years after the events of MR, Polly has led her "lads" into a testing situation and is faced with a difficult decision. Polly/Mal implied.

**Disclaimer: **Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

**Two weeks later**

Mal swung by the lookout post after patrol. As things go it had been a quiet night, the sentries were awake and the lads of her squad had stumbled back to huddle by the small fire. She dropped over the lip into the hole as quietly as possibly. Polly remained dead to the world, wrapped tightly in the greatcoat where Mal had left her two hours earlier. Mal quickly stooped to check her breathing, after years in the field Polly usually awoke at the slightest noise, and then relaxed as the heap grunted an enquiry.

"Go back to sleep Poll, it's not morning yet" Mal tucked the greatcoat in around the neck and gently stroked the dirty woollen cap covering what, in another world, had been bright blond hair. These early hours had become precious. They were times to gather strength before having to face another day of trial by hunger and cold. The lieutenant had too many troubles to carry and as a good sergeant, it was Mal's job to shield her as long as possible.

But Polly was awake now, and struggled to sit up so that she could see out over the frozen expanse separating them from the enemy. "Anything happen last night, Sergeant?"

It was a rhetorical question, neither side had the energy to try anything, and Mal didn't bother to answer, concentrating instead on getting as comfortable as possible against the muddy walls. They sat in silence watching the sky lighten as the sun crawled its way up over the mountains. There was nothing left to say.

They were woken about an hour later by a distant shout.

"What the hell?" Polly struggled to her feet, fighting to focus through the tendrils of sleep and cold. Mal was already up and was scanning the trees opposite with loaded crossbow.

Another shout echoed across the frozen expanse.

It was answered by a choice insult from one of the sentry points to their right.

"They're abusing us now?" Polly had to giggle at the incredulity of the ploy but became all seriousness when Mal nudged her arm and pointed. Something was moving in the woods. Before their startled eyes a figure emerged into the sun and waved something very like a white flag.

Polly rubbed her eyes and stared. "Mal, tell me the truth, am I dreaming still, or is that what I think it is?"

Mal put up the crossbow and slung the other arm around her shoulders. "If you're dreaming," she whispered, with a shake of the head "then I'm dreaming too. And this is one _damn_ fine dream"

It was only later when she'd woken up the lads and got a squad ready to go and investigate, that it sunk in. All those weeks of effort rolled over her like a wave and for a moment Polly was swamped.

When she opened her eyes, the lads were looking at her nervously and she realised she must look like an idiot staring into the middle distance with her mouth open. She pulled herself together and tried to remember what she had been saying. Something about sending out a patrol? She scrambled through giving the orders and sent them on their way.

When they had moved out of sight toward the front line, Polly took a deep breath of the freezing air, feeling it chill all the way down. Not caring if anyone could see her moment of weakness, sat down against the tree behind her, dropping her head into her hands and allowed herself to relax. At last they could go home. By simple fluke she had avoided the difficult decision of how best to get her lads killed.

Unsure of how much time had passed, she jumped, startled, when a hand dropped on her shoulder.

"They're coming Sir" Mal, performing every good Sergeants job of avoiding making her officer look bad, had come to lend her support. "It's time for _Diplomacy_"

Dreamily Polly found herself wondering again if sarcasm was catching, and suddenly realised they were all more tired than they knew.

"Mal, I need,"

"Saloop Sir," A mug was placed in her hand and perhaps more comforting, Mal's other hand was in the small of her back guiding her forward. "Go-on sir, they're here" she encouraged and added almost inaudibly "you can do this Poll, go get the poor bastards."

And she could. The remaining Sergeant was remarkably obliging, though once Polly had seen the scraggly troops under his command she understood. The terms of surrender were agreed and prisoners taken into custody, though all that meant was that the victors shuffled around the campfires to make space for the defeated.

Messengers were sent and returned with orders. They were no longer needed to hold the pass. It was impossible for either side to use it until the snow melted, Polly wondered if they'd be back in the same holes come the spring. It was more than likely. They were to march to Scritz and await fresh orders there. More fighting probably, but hey it was what they had signed up for. Though perhaps this time, they'd get fed.

Polly was sat in the lookout post when Mal found her, dreamily thinking of sausage and gravy and freshly baked bread. The view was no different in substance from the weeks previously. Same open ground, same woods. It made no sense really. It was Mal though, who voiced the idiocy.

"There'll be celebrations in Bonk tonight. Drinks all round, "she spat out the words. "A toast to our brave boys."

Turning sickened, she looked out over the frozen ground they had just been gifted, too hard even to bury the dead, who still lay in ice-rimed in awkward positions as they had fallen. "What a thing to be proud of, eh Poll? We starve to death slower than our enemies. I swear, sometimes I wonder what's so great about you humans after all".

An arm found its way around her shoulders. "You just need a drink, sergeant." Polly said softly. And a number of other things unspoken. There were ways and means of forgetting the horrors of war and they'd tested most of them in their varied army careers.

"There are no victors here Mal, we all lost." She sighed.

"C'mon vampire, let's go home".


End file.
